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Children of the Great Ones
The Children of the Great Ps is a book written anonymously. It details the Great Ps's offspring, the Ps Ones and describing their nature. Along with key events, items, locations and individuals significant to them. ---- Chapter 1: The Children Te'thoaris, first born of the Great Ps. Merciless and terrible, harsh taskmaster of countless planes of reality. A sight of nightmares and horrors to be told, subverting whole dimensions under his thrall. Psothoth, glowing lord of time and space. Endless and infinite as the twisting tides of fate. Madness waits for all who look too deep. Sarpstho, woe to all who insult the master of change. Bloated mass of discord or cherished child of grace. Worlds torn apart, whole empires reduced to trembling huts, cruel tyrants made into shivering jackals for all is under his whim and wealth and prosperity for all who please him. P'ell, the thousand handed worm. Lavished ruler of the fabled Feasting Halls of Jorkar, dining and eating till the moons gone by. Guests for dinner and guests to be dinner. Psaatloth, the Maw of the Abyss and the Silver Host. A figure of faceless expression, bearing only a gaping mouth of the hungry, all devouring fathomless abyss. For all who are consumed by the emptiness, fading will ensue and then nothingness. A aberrant beast his name is Psomagi. Cloaked in fur of crimson black blood with eyes of rubies. King of unruly beasts and abhorrent life. Huntsman of the Wild Chase and ravager of untold worlds. Yogereth, primal and brutal yet as think and dense as rock. A hulking titan who's hide is impenetrable. Swords bend, shield scatter and the land bends at his power and might. Untold and forever seeking those entangled in inner illusions and dreams of the mind. Beckoned by those calling out, he comes to claim his tribute of flesh, bone and soul. Swirling hair of tendril locks, armor crafted of bleached bone and maw of teeth for Pkrall comes. The enteral burning eye of Psgha, unblinking at all within it's gaze. A fountain of murky ooze springs out beneath it. Men, women and children alike fall under the touch of the Psgha. Their bodies tainted and wither from within, becoming one with him to feed his quenching flame. The Stern and Merciful Judge. Harsh yet fair, mistress Javps’a. Bringer of judgment of the wicked and unworthy. The sin of murdering one of the children of her kin, so grave is this crime. She will bring punishment for all who enable her quarry's escape. The Horror of Erltho, oh Pvu the terrible. Destruction and turmoil incarnate, a horned fiend with the skin as white as snow. Feared and reviled by many, yet loved by few. Psymgdala the Collector. Eight armed lady who's collection knows no bounds, treasures galore and endless gifts evermore. Lost beings of awe from ages long gone by bound in thread, in her grasping hold. Glistering eyes glare at prizes, forever more. The Twin Apostle. Maleik the thirteenth offspring of the Great Ps. Two sides of the same coin, but a pair all the same. One cruel, ever stagnated and with the unstoppable will of zealously and domination. The other fair and begin in form, radiating with feeling of purity and mercy. Different styles yet just as deadly, a mere servant of a higher power who's faith is build on power, control and sacrifice. The God of Fourteen Tails know as Paugnar. A slender and gangly figure that harbors the wisdom of the eons. Fair yet great and demanding of utter respect. Patron of scholars and the intellectual. Igee the Deathly Child, the Plague Bringer and Lord of Decaying Pestilences. A living source of infection incarnated into that of a mere youth, beneath though runs deep decay. Beware his touch for the rotting death will take hold, mourn for the poor soul. Ever nulling power of Papsodhu, brought through by a simple desire. Cold, unending and terrible fate for all who face this horror. Papsodhu the Null Lord, powered by stolen spirit. Only echoes remain, every waiting for blessed release. Which shall not come for some time. Speaking and chattering among themselves the many mouths of Prindus. Bickering, yelping, laughing or complaining it doesn't matter to them. Telling and speaking of events long gone by from seconds to years. There is only one rule for Prindus, the loudest wins always, and guides the rest in action. While the rest are quelled in silence.... only for mere seconds. Till the next argument and all the voices raise their opinions, high and loud as can be. The Eater of Stars. He has many names, but this is a one best suits Psyphyr. He who feeds on the light of stars, consumes the light and power of whole suns. Beware his ghostly glow and if not be lured into his wide maw. The Fisher is every patient for he know his prey will come to his door. Queen of the Wicked Crafts, Pstama that be her. Crone of power, bended tightly with foul sorcery and darkest arts of the night. Steeped in blasphemous rites of old, toying away in brewing and spellbinding. Reap thy rewards, servants of the queen. Crones, heretics and all those who seek the hidden ways. Gather around her dark majesty for she will guide the worthy in their ascendant to her side. Psggek the Four Armed Crustacean, blunt an dull as ever. Spewing all dissolving acid at pests below him in his mere sight. Crushing foes with mighty claws and steeping toes. There lies a place called Yarheze, a bountiful world of millions of souls. Grand works soar high, built of marble stone, dark mortar and slabs of chiseled stone. House to the Kindly God, Poui. He the one who showers kindness on his followers, with joy and eternal smiles. Jobey the Tricking Child. A frail and childish being, inflicting pranks and tricks on lesser beings for it's own pleasure. Bastion of life, giving life itself. The Ever-blooming Mother who hands sprout whole forests from barren stone and sand. Seeing and sowing each seed into the earth's warm embrace. For the gardens of Psulyvahn will bloom and grow, her sweet nectar enticing all manner of prey to fair gardens of death and woe. Psugdorym, standing high as a mountain of earth. A mass of horrid tubers, fungus, and festering moss, withering host of parasites and fungi saturate his bulk. Bellowing out clouds of tainted spores and other foul things to incorporate all of reality into his bloated form. The Winged Terror of a Thousand Worlds, if know the name of Psazebul. Then know his blood drenched past of terrible acts of destruction. Razor jagged wings of ragged feathers block out the sun's rays, mighty gusts of winds blow whole cites apart. The Winged Terror soars once again. Lythpa, bane of young lovers. A creature driven by hedonism and a lust for the energy from her victims. Her eyes delve deep into the minds bring lost emotions, long buried. Her touch releasing the most nostalgic feeling every to behold. But do not give in to temptation and her beauty for it matched along with her cruelty and sadistic pleasure in the thrill of the kill. Merrymaking and simple pleasures is the trade of Psangu, brother and light to his wicked other half. A small man, portly in shape. Sprouting a lovely pair of ram horns from his forehead. Master of brewing spirits and wines of all kinds, sweet and sour till the end of time. For he is the Lord of Scarlet Palace, hidden among the starlight sky. Only the chosen may enter into this paradise in the sky. Disgusted and scornful of the primitive exchange of words of mortals, Psqaie instead prefers the language of the mind instead of the lips. Once long ago, but forgotten by most on the world of Draendio. There once stood several great kingdoms and domains. Governed by mighty and proud rulers, yet not even their wisdom and power could stop the horrors that came to pass. All brought on by the scheming machinations of Psdia. Pshandra, the Lady of Reflection. The insect queen ruling a vast domain of constant flux and shifting structures, her home and fortress. She spies within her realm through more than light reflected and refracted in the fluctuating facets of the shining surfaces, images from distant worlds and lands far beyond brought into her sight of view. The lower planes of reality are home to one being, called Psudlex. A titanic aberration, who resides in blackened realms content with raising his legions of doom. Mindless swarms and hives full of silken cocoons, ready to burst with new brood to pillage and plunder. Countless are the children of Piaogga. The Mother to Many Broods, the Grey Matron of Twilight Woods. Self proclaimed Goddess of fertility, growth and monstrous births. Secret and obscure circles gather within twisting groves and forest, blood, sacrifice and passion come together. At the witching hour does young mother blessed by her gift, seed planted inside. Within the surrogate wound of mother's embrace does young spawn of Piaogga gestate within. For she brings love and child to barren ones. Cruelty and sadistic passion together for Psiolya it's her gift and pleasure to spread pain and malice to all who incite her ire. Hundreds of hands stabbing and slashing, whipping or slapping at tender flesh, the tripled fanged heads of Psiolya sink their teeth into poor victims. Pstarr the Great Starfish, a entity made of flesh and traversing on vast appendages. In times of need when danger is to great, it splits itself into nine. Logic governs him, sad and cold Pzrae. Once a being ruled freely by emotion and passion. The tragic demise of one child dear to him, drove him to reject all feelings. In his grief and sorrow, he tore out his own heart and abandoned it. Mourn for his loss and pray for sweet deliverance. Great Serpent Pgarsis, a giant with a form of a one eyed giant fused into that of a slithering snake. It's venom deadly to all but himself, for it rekindles him and rejuvenate. For that he carves whole seas of it to bath in. Powerful and great as was Psarg. He consumed hope and begat despair and sadness; He inhaled courage and breathed out fear and terror; He twisted love and created hatred and wrath; He corrupted kindness and spawned envy and malice; He indulged temperance and brought on gluttony and greed; He subdued diligence and induced sloth and laziness. Yet in the end his own powers could not save him and so Melancholy was made. Pyavhe who brought the gentle touch of her charity, her mercy and compassion to lesser beings, far inferior to her grace. A being to behold with the power to stop wars in the blink of an eye and raise mountains of rock to soar among the heavens. But careful not to be deceived by her pleasantries. The Stormreaver, eight hundred ever moving legs of Pzasu. For he can summon fourth great storms and other devastating disasters upon his foes. Oh poor Plecer, lost and alone in a realm of death. For foul poison has run it's course. Cruel immortal hands waged a terrible war, with the many deaths of the great one's brood. Oh poor children of Plecer, dream sweet dreams for your maker. The Devourer of Intelligence, Pshege. A lord of the mind and knowledge, who's power leeches the very mind of thought and power. Beware his influence for it brings nothing but pain. The many eyed Pseroud ever waiting and watching. A great being bearing a lone eye upon his head but possessing various eyes sprawled across his rigid yet black body. The Screeching One, the master of sound. Psäei's voice brings both nostalgic and destruction. Which one whisper he can render he can cause earth to shake, with a single word, entire lands are reduced to wastelands and whole civilizations to rubble. Pst-aea the Old God, Grandfather. He who seeks lurks the outer realms. The being with no love for those who disturb it's time. One false move leads to utter ruin and a fearsome end. Azpseta of the Inner Self, a child of the Great Ps who holds great power over the mind as such posses the right to see into and bring fourth lost and sometimes best forgotten secrets and memories though there is both danger and a terrible price. The Potbelly, that is mocking and term for the forty-six born of the Great Ps. Though it may hold some truth. A comical yet not be insulted being, this being resorts to playing safe and playing the part of a harmless simpleton. But beware for the moment is right, he will be your downfall. Suffering to all who venture to Scor. Listen not to the whispers of the marshlands, for they belong to the Voice of Deceit. It will twist and tempt your mind with lies and false promises, yet those who fall to it's thrall shall belong forever more under it's grip. They toil away among ruins of old, working to bring back a ancient evil back to power. A great turtle like beast, covered in armor plating so hard and unbreakable. Cold and watchful, forever patient waiting for the right moment to strike. More like a monstrous toad than a deity, but Pula'yas is powerful indeed. Massive and large in shape and size. Squatting in the waters of his own personal realm among giant lily pads. Blessed be Porso the Architect. Bender of the fabric of reality and crafter of the many arts. Fueled by desire to bring life to creation. Väypsar the Monarch of Night and Darkened Places. Petty and vengeful, best nor draw is ire or suffer a dark curse. Sundered and battered by light rays, forced to hide among shadows. Pasat the most vile of his brethren. From his body swells fourth building the essence of life, given goods and their ingredients. But within it holds a great sickness of the mind. The Watcher of the Depths, the Horror from the Mists. Pabyssal takes and goes by many titles. Sphere eyes look deep into the soul of those close to the water's edge. Look too long and you may see horrid things beyond imagination or fall victim to image weaving mist. Podoe the second to last born. In the shape of an elderly, male with pure white hair. Yet possessing the strength and vitality of an immortal. Though this appearance is merely a shell for what really lies beneath. Last of all. The still beating heart of Pzrael, ripped out as unbearably grief took it's toil. Thus Poorë was made. Full of resentment and swore to rid others of pain, beating wounded hearts torn and offered to his pleasure, bound now together. ---- Chapter 2: The Tales of the Living Gods ---- 'Ballad of Henrik Gu'stand' My songs are sung in grand drinking halls. From Mountains of Jour to woodland realms of Marthland. Buy me some ale! I'll drink it all in one. My songs for not free! The Great Ones of old left here long ago. A tale of vast and cosmic sorrow so great. They might come back, but not today. They're fearful of their end to come one day! I tracked and battled a great winged beast. For it's eyes and claws to fetch a good price. But when dear knife struck the hide. It broke in two and I flew for my life! I met a fair young maiden. Who kept me to herself. But love is not for me. So I slipped away and she bellowed a cry for me. A man with the face of a goat, claws for hands and hoofs for feet, did I meet. He howled like a monstrous ram. So I climbed a tree! I faced this beast and grabs a stick. With in in hand, I sprang on it and stuck it good. I must say that is quite too bad, for he tasted real good. I swear it was for me! A great lost automaton crafted so fair. Confronted me once in a forest. I told him where his makers had gone. Then far did I throw it into the depths of vast sea! One day, did I come across when drinking on fair morning eve. A young man portly in shape, with horns of a goat. Soft words did he speak, yet cruel was he to me. They're not as I was to his other fellow. My hands sharp now, my mouth wet for red drink and a pair of my own atop my head. In darkest caves, or shadow groves by city walls do I lurk now. No place is grand as once this great hall. And raise a mug! Make sure you drink for me! ---- 'Oh, Archivenia' The infinite archives of Archivenia are the ultimate gift. Its innumerable shelves and countless books carry the weight of all knowledge of reality. Any reader can find all that was, all that is, and all that will be among the tomes. Followers of the false ways and uncultured masses, content in their blissful ignorance, preach hatred of the Great One. Paugnar is his name, yet they call him: unclean, monstrous, wicked and defiled. We have seen the truth. Knowledge is only as wicked as the one who wields it. Forsaking the art and power of knowledge in fear of its dangers or misuse is the ultimate sin. It is unforgivable and horrid transgression. As a result, men and women from all planes of reality have suffered countless times of loss and pain. In Archivenia, he weeps at the suffering brought upon the grip of ignorance. Those who walk his halls are truly gifted. Even as their bodies wither and fall away, they are permitted to bask in the power of the infinite tomes and scrolls, to soak and tap into all mysteries that have ever and will ever exist. It is the most blessed of fates and a worthy destiny indeed. We give praise, Paugnar. We seek enlightenment, insight, and a place at your side and all that you offer for those found worthy. ---- 'The Tragedies of Draendio' Draendio is a name known for infamy. Millennia ago, it was the world where arose six great kingdoms held together and lead by great, magnificent and powerful rulers. But in the end they could not see the terrible events that would befell them or their people. It began in the land of Efeuam Luov, a northern kingdom ruled by the Stone Lord, a man revered and who carried the blood of the ancient Irossians, a long dead race of great warriors. He was said to be ever-merciful, and devoted himself to the protection of his people. At an unknown point, an sinister presence was discovered to have taken root deep within a mountain considered a sacred place by the Stone Lord's subjects. In an attempt to appease his people and safeguard them, the Stone Lord constructed a great cathedral at its base and the oracle of Efeuam Luov, prayed in silence. The attempt was unsuccessful and the evil festered with the mountain and soon began to corrupt his own people. The king ordered the construction of a great protective wall, to confine the encroaching threat from the mountain. Knights and great machines of defense were posted throughout the garrison to lead the advance on the corruption on the king's orders. Efeuam Luov served as the first line of defense should the evil be unleashed. Some attempts were made to combat the evil. The Knights of Luov were devoted guardians of the realm and all who resided within it. They delved into the depths of mountain to cleanse it of all the terrible and abhorrent things that dwelled there, but none of the knights ever returned. Eventually, the Stone Lord sensed the upcoming downfall of the kingdom and left his home without a word, leaving everything to his oracle. He traveled deep into the mountain in a final attempt to put an end to the threat but instead he was swallowed up by it. Soon after the Lord's departure, the stone gates of the city were shattered open, and the land was spoiled with taint and became lifeless. Only the oracle herself remained, still roaming the ruins, and slowly fell prey to the corrupted influence of the same evil that destroyed her own king and homeland. News of the tragic fate of Efeuam Luov and it's people spread fast through the other five realms. One of the first to hear of it was the Metal Emperor, the ruler of an ancient kingdom and ruled from Ferrous Keep, a impenetrable fortress made out of solid metals. Long before that though, the Metal Emperor was a mere solider with a lust for power and wealth. His ambition knew no bounds and eventually he turned on his own leader and forged a kingdom for himself from weaker states. Doing so cost him what little resources he had, but in the process, he unknowley discovered an metal-producing relic of an bygone age, which allowed him to freely shape and harness the powers of the earth's riches to his will. The Metal Emperor though upon hearing of his fellow monarch's demise, instead he gloated. He longed to expand his power, his obsession with creating an indomitable empire that would last for centuries brew. Seeing an opportunity at hand, he sent spies to scouter the ruins of Efeuam Luov and recover it's lost treasures. Eventually though only a handful of them returned, with nothing to bare or offer to their master. But instead of wealth, they instead came back with stories of a desolated land, though they did bring something else. Without knowing they had been polluted by the evil from Efeuam Luov. The Metal Emperor was not a man know for his compassion and so he abruptly threw all of the failed spies into the deepest and darkest dungeon beneath the keep. They languished there for a long time until they drew their last breath, and were forgotten by their cruel master. Though not forever, for soon after that a great rumble stirred within the bowels of the keep. The Metal Emperor and his beloved castle began to sink into the earth due to the immense weight of the structure. As the earth opened to swallow his keep, molten metal began to melt the walls, eventually consuming his kingdom along with him. Two lands now laid to waste. Now came for Angleic's turn. A prosperous and powerful nation, first established by an ancestor of King Flosa on the ruins of past kingdoms. King Flosa was a man of honor and favored strength of arms, and soldiers who would stake their every battle on strength alone. Yet he wished to provide his people with a means to protect them after his death. His search was over, for one day. A woman of unparalleled beauty, came to Flosa and warned him of a looming threat across his eastern borders, in the land held by a tribe of giants who long rumored to posse a powerful artifact. King Flosa named this woman his queen and crossed the border with her to combat the giants. During this conflict, he pillaged their lands and took many of them captive to experiment on back in Angleic. This experimentation gave him a better understanding of the nature of life and the power of the soul, thus leading to the creation of golems. Using this acquired power, Flosa created various types of them, who in turn assisted in maintaining his kingdom. With his wife and legions of golems at his side, Angleic entered a prolonged period of peace and prosperity. The peace would eventually be broken, however. Seeking vengeance for the subjugation of his people, the Giant Chief amassed an army and waged a vengeful counter-invasion of Angleic. He also sought to avenge the deaths and horrendous treatment of the captive giants Flosa took. Unable to forgive the actions of Flosa, the giants attacked. They set siege to the King's castle and relentlessly attacked various settlements, forts and keeps across the land for several generations. Battles waged between Flosa's forces and the Giants, and much of Angleic's citizens fled the kingdom to escape the conflict. Ultimately, the Giants were defeated after their leader was slain by the king himself. In the aftermath though, much of his had been reduced to rubble and visitors to the kingdom were seldom. Already weakened by the Giants, the kingdom then became afflicted by another threat, from within. Flosa was desperate to find save his kingdom. His wife constantly whispered to his ears of treachery from within, of how long term allies were in fact scheming usurpers and friends are backstabbing traitors to the kingdom. Soon Flosa's mind was tainted by his own wife's poisoned words. Eventually his paranoia ensued leaving his wife as the only one he could trust. Soon afterword, all those who's names were told to be traitors were rounded up even the most loyal knight soon found themselves meeting the executioner's blade. But Flosa in all his attempts would fail however, and eventually in a lone moment of sanity he realized that his beloved queen was in fact the one who could not be trusted. Flosa confronted his wife and she gleefully revealed the terrible truth. She was in fact once the oracle to the Stone Lord of Efeuam Luov and had come to embrace the power of the monstrosity, becoming it's herald in order to spread misfortune and it's influence to the other kingdoms. Realizing her dark plans, King Flosa did battle with his wife, for three whole days. Did the two battle, blade meeting claw, to tip the balance, he called upon a contingent of his ever obedient golems. While his wife, grew into a hideous aberration. At last, did Flosa struck the final blow and ran his greatsword, Lifecleaver into the malformed body that once was fair. But so did she dig talons into his body. The two died in a twisted embrace, and so did the golems fall silent. The once glorious Angleic now stands desolated, it's few remaining citizens eking out a miserable existence in the crumbling ruins of their past glory. Anor Uava was the next kingdom and a city but was a sovereign power by it's own right. Legends tell of how it once served as the city of the gods. Home to Draendio's deities and gods, though long now abandoned after eons of warfare and neglect. Until an apprising man stumbled across it and eventually he rediscovered the arts of the gods themselves. Over time, he drew a steady stream of followers to his side and with their help restored the city back to glory. Thus the Priest-King was born and using his newfound powers, brought prosperity to his people. Crops were ever fertile with the king showering them with rain brought on from the heavens upon his will, he ensured the land was forever in a perpetual spring and established intuitions for learning and the culture. As the golden age endured and Anor Uava became the heart of newly formed movement preaching the return to the old ways of adherence to higher powers. The Priest-King wishing to guarantee the future of his city and followers, began to recruit a array of people and founded two orders to aid him in this undertaking. The first was the Ministry, a administration that would promote and maintain the Priest-King's teachings. The other was the Daughters of Anor, an all female based religious sect that were charged with serving the people and contribute to the betterment of all of Anor Uava. With both the Ministry and Daughters assisting him, he crept into the background of life. Seldom appearing at all for long periods of time, not even when a another new temple or church was constructed or opened, nor did he appear to crowds of his people begging for him to appear or on special holidays. Soon doubt crept into the minds and hearts of the people, who turned away from reverence for him and became more occupied with venerating their gods. Eventually over a period of several decades, the people grew idle. Though their society had overcome the mistakes of past civilizations and had enjoyed peace for many years. Their devotion to their faith though would prove their greatest weakness. For years, a multitude of sects and cults flourished within Anor Uava's walls, each one differing on particular tenets of belief or modes of worship. Some were devoted to the conviction of fire being a purifying force, others to the indulgence of passion, and some held faith in the mystical ways of the star. But there was one insignificant group that would become a great part in upcoming events, a small cult which believed in transcending the mortal coil, wishing to be reborn into new bodies and at the same time achieve enteral life had arisen within the poor districts of Anor Uava. Hearing the whispers that they thought to be a long lost god from the past, they worked tireless to indoctrinate new members into the fold, and preach the will of their master. The cult's numbers swelled as did their influence grow. Soon did their beliefs become more radical and harsh. Fanatical cultists attacked the temples and holy sites of other faiths, statues of its godly patrons and saints were toppled, floors dripping with blood and covered in the defiled corpses of its priests. News quickly spread like wildfire, the remaining populace reacted with fear and rage, the entrances to the lower districts were sealed off. But it was too late for numerous cultists had already infiltrated the upper city. Panic swept as the faithful looked for answers to deliver them to salvation, holy men called for a inquisition to purge the lower levels of city with flame and brimstone, others conducted crude ceremonies to call for aid from the heavens and few turned looked to Elohim high, to their aging Priest-King. The Priest-King now a frail old man, hearing his people being threaten by such a great deal of spiritual corruption within his own city. Through sheer will power, he ventured down from his citadel, awed by masses of his followers to looked on as their beloved ruler ignored the barricades and ventured deep into the slums of the lower city districts. It was not long before he had discovered to his dismay, streets silent and deserted. Corpses amassed into piles and the once grand temples and cathedrals tainted. Swearing to bring justice to those who had come to defile the city. Then he came upon the main street, in front of one of the largest cathedrals in the lower districts built for the worship of Lady Augusta, a goddess and patron to the common folk. There he saw even more disturbing sight, countless bloated bodies converging at the cathedral's entrance in kneeling positions and looking as to be spilt opened hollowed husks. That's when he saw it. A singe, humanoid like creature flying above on a pair of silvery pale wings with a trail of tendrils exposed from the waist down. The appearance of the creature though was no convenience, a twisted mockery of one of the Oaveur, benevolent and angelic servants to some of the most revered deities for the ancient people of Draendio. Summoning both willpower and faith, the Priest-King materialized a spear of pure light and threw it, piercing the creature who fell and dissolved into a pile of pus and bone, upon hitting the ground. Feeling renewed by his faith and rage, the Priest-King delved further. Finding even more of husks and a couple of the creatures which were easily slain. Until he came into a open courtyard, where large scores of husks were bunched together all facing the center. And at that moment, the Priest-King saw the true horror. A large swollen tentacle mass of flesh, mounted onto it was the body of a fair woman dressed in the tattered cloth of a Daughter of Anor, though she bore unnatural features such as her hands had become claws and sprouted elongated wing like structures. He was horrified at the sight. How could one of his most loyal followers become so corrupted? The creature though gave him an answer and directed him to the pile of husks where he could not believe what he saw. Movement, a still living man though bloated like all the others. He stared and saw the back start to crack, he looked on in disbelief as finally a slender form burst out of the man, vestigial stubs of underdeveloped wings protruding from the creature's back. At last the Priest-King understood the dark and terrible truth. The husks and the winged aberrations, this was the reward and fate for those who served. Their former forms sickened with taint, becoming bloated only to shed them for new and immortal bodies. Finally finding the truth and in the presence of the one responsible for so much death. The Priest-King drew an mighty spear of energy and as was about to strike the creature. His body failed him, he collapsed to the ground in agony as ever nerve was like on fire. He cursed and swore to the heavens for help, yet he did receive an answer and he cried out. The creature laughed and smirked at him as he laid on the ground. It asked him a question. A question which the Priest-King answered. It's grin widen, for it knew that the one thing that held so much sway over it's foe besides his faith was his fear of death, of the unknown. Seizing this as an opportunity. It gave him a choice, die in the confines of his mortal flesh and bliss of faith or give in and become reborn into immortality. At first he responded with shock and dismay. But soon he doubted his own teachings, his body had withered away over the years and soon thought he would expire and go to death's door. In that moment, he knew this one in a life chance and he accepted the monster's deal. The Priest-King returned to the upper city, and brought down the barricades. With that he secured his immortality, ushering in the followers of the creature to enter and began the slaughter of those who resisted and capturing those who would be converted. In mere days the once grand city of Anor Uava was brought to heel. It's remaining citizens now transformed into immortal beings, with their Priest-King leading them into worship of their new god, so the surrounding land degenerated into a savage and desolate wilderness, with any who dare venture to close to the city under threat of being captured and brought before the immoral king and given the same choice as him, which many choosing the same as he once did. With that now draws, the next kingdom. The realm called Londariea, a mighty land carved in the mountains. Home to clans that paid homage to creatures that dwelled there, but more so worshipped the mighty Khalemkaor, a titanic draconic like beast which breathed heat and flame. By legend and folklore of the clansmen, the whole land was united by a lone warrior who bore the mark of the Irossians. The warrior began his quest by subjugating the local rival clans, first approaching the Bloodsun Clan, fierce and barbaric warriors that struck awe and shock from others through their harsh methods of defeating enemies. The warrior simple thought of impressing the clansmen with his sheer strength and raw power, that changed when he meet their chief, a crude and vile man with a temper to match. At that moment, the lone warrior challenged the chief to a honorable duel, the winner would live while the loser perished. The chief accepted this, prideful and sure of his victory over the upstart. Though as he drew his iron spiked club and charged at the warrior, he tripped and fell. Before long, the warrior pinned him with a foot before raising up his blade and bringing down right across the chief's throat and life's blood spew outward. With his foe dead, the warrior turned to the Bloodsun and without hesitation, all of them bent the knee and accepted him as their new chieftain. One clan down, more to come. The warrior turned his gaze towards the east. There residing in vast swaths of stinking fenlands was the second stepping stone in his journey; the Murk Walkers. Considered more primitive by others, but they had grew to great numbers and were reviled by most for their peculiar lifestyle of foraging instead of raiding. The warrior along with a group of the most hardened Bloodsun warriors and ventured fourth into the swampy dominion of the Murk Walkers. They eventually came upon the main settlement of the clan, huts fetched from reeds and fallen branches and watchtowers perched up in trees. The Murk Walkers greeted them allowing them through to meet their leader, a aiding man near the brink of death. The warrior spoke and told all of them of his quest, the chieftain of the Murk Walkers smiled and told him, he would gladly appoint him his successor but only if he defeated the greatest foe of his people. The warrior with no haste accepted this and having being told of where the foe dwelled. With that he took his men and tracked down the foe, a primordial horned snake like creature that had preyed upon the Murk Walkers for countless generations. He confronted the beast and made battle, losing over half of his followers to the creature's fangs. But soon overcame it and in a final stroke, cleaved the creature's head off. He took the head back and presented to all of the Murk Walkers, their leader having his wished granted made the warrior his successor, and soon died. Now with two clans at his side, the warrior turned his attention to the fanatical Scorching Eye Clan. The Scorching Eyes were a powerful clan led not by a single chief but by a sect of zealous priests and soothsayers who fiercely venerate Khalemkaor and it's fire. They would demand tribute from weaker tribes, using the fear of Khalemkaor's wrath to intimidate them and often engaged in sacrificial rites of captives through immolation. When the warrior backed up by the Bloodsun and Murk Walker clans came to Blaze Line, a lone hill supposedly once was a dwelling place for one of Khalemkaor's spawn which the Scorching Eyes gather to conduct their worship and rites. The warrior knowingly interrupted them and roared his demands to the Scorching Eyes and their leaders, who merely mocked and threatened him with a slow death by the flames. The warrior responded in kind by taking their heads and toppling their idols, without their leaders. The Scorching Eye Clan was quelled and joined with their new allies. With the Bloodsun, Murk Walker and Scorching Eye clans under his command, the warrior moved to unify the rest of the clans under his banner. The Blue Feet willingly joined, the young boy chieftain of Stonefist was taken down and made to kiss the boots of his new master, the death-mystics of the Pale Hollow gracefully flocked to their new leader under the threat of roasting alive by Scorching Eye's flames, the slavemasters of the Frostalon were made into slaves, the Swirling Horns made obedient, the Bonecrafter vowed to obey through the breaking of bones, the Deathlurker faced death, the Night Fang defanged, the Twilight Fall were made servile, the Stormlord made broken and the Dew Harvesters complied to work. And soon others joined and with that the final clan was assimilated into the growing horde. With all of the clans and their resources at his beckoning, the warrior went on to rule and eventually sired many children, each one carrying the blood of the Irossians within their veins. For nearly two centuries did he reign, until one day he suddenly vanished without a trace. For months did his children and their followers scour the countryside but could not locate him. In the end, his numerous offspring distraught over their father's disappearance blamed each other and soon a civil war erupted. Clan after clan drew blood, land ravaged and homes set ablaze. When the fighting finally end only a handful of his offspring remained. His children wishing not to extinguish the possible last remnants of their patriarch's ancestors, they enacted a truce and began to rebuild with the surviving clansmen. Centuries later, the last of the warrior's descendants had recovered, establishing a thriving kingdom. Through various polices, they had stripped the majority of the clans' ancestral identify, maintained a very strict hierarchy, followed rigid marriage and succession customs and even demolished and banned aspects of religious belief systems that would contradict their plans. All of this was for the pursuit and completion of one goal; the resurrection of the Irossian race. For years, the ruling family who bear the purest of their ancestor's blood wished to bring about the revival of their forbearers as a means to honor their ancestor. Thus they enacted ways to bring this about, those who bore the cleanliest blood were raised up as elite while those who bred and had been polluted, knowingly defiling their genetic purity were cast out as traitors and mongrels with many settling in Efeuam Luov. Over the years, this purity though would bring about stagnation, population riddled with birth defects and the slow collapse of Londariea. The last monarch of Londariea, King Vordlen the 3rd, Son of the Mountain and the Flame who was proclaimed by his most devoted of kin and followers to be the purest of his whole line. While his body was fair, his mind was plagued by madness and dark voices. To which led him to all manner of feats of insanity such as outlawing the growing of beards longer then his own, promoting a lowly pet to a duke and even proclaiming a holiday where a lucky person would be thrown of the ramparts and made to fly. The people suffered for years until he reached a new level. Fascinated since he was a child by tales of the Scorching Eye's immolation rituals and those of flame's power. He made his servants construct great bonfires where countless victims were thrown in, the people resisted and rose against him. Even as the other kingdoms and lands were ravaged by an unknown evil all around them, the people of Londariea fought against their mad king. Until the day, where he instead of facing the wraith of a bloodthirsty mob threw himself into the flames while proclaiming himself the Child of Blood and Flame until only ash remained. Even with their mad king slain, Londariea's fate was sealed. Disease and inbreeding had decimated the people, with many having already fled and in their final moments, the angels of Anor Uava came for those who stayed and so Londariea fell to corruption. Five kingdoms down, now only one remains for now. In the south, lied a stretch of land know as the Ithhyria Peninsula. Fertile green rolling hills, plains of grassland from miles to see, small but dense pockets of forests, chains of steep mountains and several rivers flowing into networks of lush deltas and tributaries. In primordial times it was the birthplace of civilization for all of Draendio, for long ago it was the ancestral home to several different races and cultures of men. The warlike Irossians, the river-faring Wesynar, the nomadic Zopar, the ever rare Maathi, the gentle Haasrene and the sophisticated Antraki. For a time it was a era of peace. The Wesynar raised dozens of port city-states among the Great Wes River and it's tributaries, flocks of livestock grazed freely on the green hills tended to by Haasrene herders, waves of Zopar sweep across the plains of grass, enigmatic and long living Maathi assemble in shaded groves and woods to employ their mysterious craft, the proud Antraki resisting in their mountain keeps, conducting their daily affairs while fierce Irossian warriors did battle with savage beasts down below. Though peace would not last, for many years did the Irossians grow jealous and coveted the lands of the other races. While the others thrived, they had to scrap by in the dirt. It only took one thing to push it beyond the edge. One day, a two young Irossian braves did come upon a trio of aristocratic Antraki lost. At first both sides were cautious yet curious of their counterparts. Then one of the Antarki took a step forward, believing it to be an aggressive gesture. The Irossians drew their weapons and cut down the Antarki, the two others quickly made their escape. Thus the Irossians and Antarki engaged in war, that would drag the whole peninsula into bloody conflict. Honed in the arts of warfare, the Irossians natural were leading themselves to the victory, for the Antarki while more advanced, they were not united and often feuded among themselves. One by one, their mountain keeps and citadels were laid to ruin and their people ether slaughtered or made into slaves for their new Irossian masters. Those who were able to escape the destruction and enslavement of their brethren, took refugee with their neighbors who told stories of the savage brutality of the Irossians. The Zopar were the first to rise up, their great swarming bands of horse back riders rode across and met battle with advancing war parties of Irossian troops. Both the Wesynar and Haasrene supplied their Zopar allies, liberated Antraki gave useful intel of the Irossian forces, while the Maathi isolated themselves from the bloodshed. For the next decade, the war raged on. Countless lives were lost and the landscape scarred with the sighs of war. With poor planning, and rising number of uprising by their Antraki slaves. The Irossians were on the losing end, slowly their numbers dwindled down. Many of them chose to forsake their stubborn kin who continued to fight for a lost cause and fled. Those that remained were slain to the last men, women and child. With that another great change occurred, after the war. Many young Zopar followed after the fleeing Irossians, chasing them far north. Legends say that both groups perished but others say they did meet their ancient foe, but found something else, tribes of monstrous giants and to this day are fighting them. Those Antraki who survived, ether joined up with their liberators and comingled with them or returned to their mountains and began rebuilding their home. The Haasrene flourished and their population grew. But while some prospered others diminish, the Wesynar overtime abandoned their cities and took great ships, sailing away never to be seen or heard again down the rivers. The Maathi began to fade and many vanished, those who remained are told to have slowly become wicked and malefic creatures of the night, ever lurking in the darkened forests. In the end, the Haasrene and their descendants would inherit the earth. Becoming the modern race of men who would go on to forge dozens of kingdoms and territories all across the surface of Draendio. Centuries later in the Ithhyria Peninsula, there arose in a land an powerful lord and his four greatest knights. His name was Algar Brayor, a man of great stature who along with his loyal knights united the whole peninsula, transforming it into a thriving and mighty country with him as it's king who stood vigilant as all other realms fell. He was a living legend among his followers, he slew one of the foul Maathi, battled the giants of the north, tore the heart out of a fire breathing behemoth and even survived a whole winter with only a knife. Though he was might, he held one thing in utter contempt; betrayal. He despised those who lied, deceived, manipulated and cheated for their own personal gain. For that would be his downfall, for one of his knights, Relock Harlon, a skilled and disciplined man with deep knowledge of military would end up betraying him for power. It started slowly, night after night. He was visited in his dreams where he was tempted by a voice to turn on his lord and take his rightful place as ruler over all. At first he resisted, but it soon got worse as the voice started tormenting him during the day. Until in a rash moment, he accepted and his mind was flooded by the dark intelligence of a primeval and eldritch entity. He instantly was made it's thrall and unwilling pawn, with him as it's tool. The entity made it's plans to bring the whole country to ruin. It approached under the guise of Relock Harlon to one of his comrades, Alevna Frolein. A young but very courageous woman trained at a very young age to be a knight of honor. Yet she was also trusting and very naïve. It easy for the entity to manipulate her to it's twisted uses, it lured her away from the kingdom's walls and stabbed her in the back literally. Her cold and lifeless body was soon discovered and once King Algar Brayor heard of this, he vowed to undercover and bring the murderer to justice. So he gave his senior staff members authority and they sparked the creation of a inquisition. Fear and paranoia engulfed the kingdom, the agents of the inquisition lurked everywhere eavesdropping on ever conversation and any hint of treason or whisper of dissent was a invitation to spend time in the dungeons or hard labor. But this was all part of it's grand plan for tensions had arise with dissidence spreading, better for it's corruptive influence to spread. It's next target was the knight Regulus Carnoma, a individual of great empathy. It would use this to it's advantage, for it knew of Regulus's compassion. The entity first, grew close to it's victim. Spending much time with him, thought also whispering simple words to deceive him. Eventually after witness so much sorrow from his own people, Regulus turned to his friend and asked what to do. The entity told of a way to save them but at a price. Regulus didn't care so long as it saved those he cared for and accepted the offer, to which the creature smirked. Darkness fell over it and his victim, when Regulus awoke he found himself in a forest clearing and close to a pond. But when he peered into the reflective surface of it's water to his horror, his body was changed forever. Hands had become cloven with talons, his legs had extended and bent with unnatural joints, from atop his bulging head sprouted a mouth full of jagged teeth and he saw all around him through numerous eyes. There he saw Relock Harlon or to put it the being that had twisted him into this aberration. He was filled with pure sadness as he went to the feet of this being and pleaded with him with eyes forming tears to undo what had been done to him, he even kissed the man's boots. But the entity gave but one response, that nothing could be done. Regulus fell into despair only to for the being to sooth him. Telling him that everything was fine. In that moment, it's sinister power took complete over Regulus, his mind becoming loyal only to it's master. Now with three knights swiped from the board, the king and his lackeys riddled with fear of treachery. Their inquisition had set their country ablaze with paranoia, dissidence festered with the hearts of the people. The moment was right, the entity worked it's way to the king's fortress, while it's creation; Regulus along with mobs of former citizens twisted into horrific beings by his newfound power stalked the streets and dealt with interfering soldiers. The entity reached the throne room and there meet the king and his last loyal knight, Caro Dueror. A man nearing his retirement but still held the strength of a youth. At long last, did King Algar Brayor discover the true traitor. The hidden hand pulling the strings and the creature that had done so much evil. Still though he would not yield and his comrade, Caro stepped in front of the being and challenged it. The evil laughed and in mere instants did the knight find himself facing a grave threat. The creature unleashed a wave of destructive power, that blew the throne room apart. Caro along with his king barely managed to hold, but in the fray. Caro had already fallen victim, for the creature had came behind him and in one stroke ripped his head off and threw it to the feet of the horrified king, At the sight of his friend's demise, he flew into a rage and with his sword bared, ran up to this once good friend and stabbed him over and over and over. But the creature didn't resist and it seemed to mock him. With one hand it took hold over the king's throat and raised him up, it smiled and merely whispered a single word into his ear; Psdia. With that the creature snapped the neck of King Algar Brayor and the body slumped to the floor. The creature stepped over the corpse of the king and savvied over the ruined kingdom. Pleased with it's results and the fun it had brining ruin throughout the world, and with one step the body of Relock Harlon dropped into the streets, broken and twisted. The remaining people of Ithhyria Peninsula without it's strong leader splintered and were left to struggle while the capital city was left to ruin with only the twisted progeny of the once noble knight, Regulus Carnoma dwelling in it. One engulfed by evil. One swallowed by earth, one fallen to silence, one taken by taint, another succumbed to madness. Still another fell to betrayal. So the proud realms of Draendio were destroyed, it's people's fate left uncertain as tainted forces resided throughout it. But one thing is certain; the world of Draendio is no safe place for those who are sane. ---- 'Clans of Londariea: A Guide of Survival and Identification' To deal with the wild clansmen of Londariea, you should know who you're dealing with. There are a large number of clans existing, within these groups there are those who view travelers as threats and sometimes targets. Bloodsun Clan: Particular fierce in nature, the Bloodsun clan have developed culture eerily similar to the now extinct Irossians. The clan's name stems from their founder who supposable was born under a scarlet sun akin to the color of blood. When in battle or on a raid, they are brutal and bloodthirsty, becoming ruthless berserkers. Slaughtering and butchering all in their way, razing their victim's homes to the ground and taking the survivors as slaves. Another part in their customs is their belief in otherworldly powers and appear to be very superstitious, even more so then their neighbors. Murk Walker Clan: Reclusive, the Murk Walker clan dwells in the bleakest and most forbidding wetlands of eastern Londariea. They have a sour reputation as "scum eaters" or "mud slinkers" mainly because instead of relying on raiding to support themselves, they forage their native swamplands for food. The clan itself is actually quite large compared to others, with their numbers reaching far into the hundreds. Possibly another reason why they are reviled by others.... or feared? Scorching Eye Clan: Their entire culture is centered entirely around the fanatical reverence of fire, especially those formed by Khalemkaor. To this end, the zealots of the Scorching Eye conduct a number of rituals with the idolization of fire playing an important element in them. With some of these rites including ritual sacrifice of nonbelievers by immolation. Other clans often find themselves offering tribute to the Scorching Eye clan, some to gain protection from the flames of Khalemkaor and others to simple make the fanatics leave. Though from what I hear it does not always work. Blue Feet Clan: Named for due to their custom of dying their feet to the shade of blue. Members of the Blue Feet clan from a early age are trained to be quick on their feet. The protection of young clan members is paramount, and whole Blue Feet families are know to go into battle over the slightest threat to their young. Stonefist Clan: Disciplined, organized, and militaristic are three words that describe the Stonefist clan. They utilize brute strength to bring down their enemies. Even to the point of death. Holding deep seeded sense of pride and independence for their clan and a distinguished culture from others. Pale Hollow Clan: Profoundly linked to the spiritual world and having many seers, astrologers, and speakers of the dead among their ranks. The death-mystics of the Pale Hallow have a great understanding of the stars and their omens, their strength lies within the mastery of the dark arts. Earning respect and fear from numerous clans. The Scorching Eye and Pale Hollow clans have a bitter relationship. The clan members of the Scorching Eye fear and persecute those of the Pale Hollow for their dabbling in supernatural and once they capture a Pale Hollow clansman, they burn the captive alive. In return the Pale Hollow clan in retaliation are said to cast curses on the Scorching Eye clan, and to my knowledge afterwards disaster and misfortune occurred for the clan. Frostalon Clan: Cruel and ruthless are those of the Frostalon clan. They earned their reputation as cold hearted for their practice of forced servitude; slavery. The slave traders of the Frostalon often conduct hunts in which their warriors would raid villages and kidnap a number of the residents who would be sold into bondage, this has been a bane for smaller clans who suffer greatly from Frostalon raids. Swirling Horns Clan: The symbol of the Swirling Horns clan is that of a swirling ram horn. This clan in particular bear similarities with the Murk Walker clan, but instead of foraging. The Swirling Horns have domesticated a breed of stout, primitive Elkoors becoming herdsmen. No part of the Elkoors, is wasted. Horns and bones are used as tools or weapons, fur and skin is dried and tanned into fabric for clothing and even the excrement is used as fuel for their camp fires. Bonecrafter Clan: This clan has certainly earned it's name and is feared for it. Bonecrafers were known for ornamenting and crafting weapons for themselves with the bones and organs of their enemies. It is also said that members often committed cannibalism during times of hardship, even preying on fellow clans members or weaker clans. Deathlurker Clan: Trained from the moment of birth to be killers, the Deathlurker clan engaged in trials of pitting their own children against all manner of beasts and even their comrades to perfect them into being savage and cunning murderers. But due to these brutal practices, the Deathlurker clan has always stayed rather small and often were employed as assassins or mercenaries by other clans. Night Fang Clan: The Night Fang Clan was said to be formed by a crafty leader who recruited outcasts and transformed them into a new clan. Getting the name from their habit of preforming nightly raids and with clansmen armed with knives fashioned out of the fangs of the deadly shadow bear. Twilight Fall Clan: Mysterious is this clan in particular, even their customs are bizarre. While called a clan, it is more like a deranged cult. The members of the Twilight Fall preform a myriad of unusual rituals which seem to stem from their veneration of a strange figure know only as the Twilight Elder. Often when spoken to they merely babble in incoherently about riddles and prophecies of doom and mass destruction. Besides their mystifying practices, another particular habit of the clan causes them friction with other clans: The Twilight Fall are known to abduct the children of smaller clans, indoctrinating and converting them to the way of the Twilight. Stormlord Clan: Drawing their name from an ancient chieftain who single-handedly slew a beast at the pinnacle of Storm's Crown. The Stormlords were the greatest big game hunters. For centuries they used riding beasts and coordinated assaults to slay game and hunt down the most dangerous beasts. Dew Harvester Clan: One of the more peaceful clans, the Dew Harvester clan have a long history of cultivating various herbal plants to use in concocting all manner of alchemical potions and elixirs. Along with this, the Dew Harvester clan produce a number of potent poisons which they sell at moderate prices to the other clans. Splitting Tusk Clan: Rivals to the Stormlord clan, instead of hunting and or enslaving beasts. The clansmen of the Splitting Tusk sought to befriend and ultimately tame beasts for the betterment of the clan. There was one animal that the Splitting Tusk clan held regard above all others. For they revered the great Arktours, great beasts of burden. Bleak Mire Clan: A splinter faction from the Murk Walkers. It is said that it began when clansmen betrayed their brethren and were exiled, they were left to wither away in the bleakest mire but some managed to escape and swore vengeance. Those of the Bleak Mire, share a deep hatred for their Murk Walker kinsmen and are devoted to the utter destruction of the clan. Their contempt and enmity was so great apparently that the entire clan was destroyed when they launched a full on attack on a fully guarded Murk Walker village not even caring to make a decedent strategy. Painted Hand Clan: Originally the Painted Hand clan were a minor clan until an chieftain defeated the leaders of several other clans and assimilated them into the Painted Hand. The Painted Hand were well know for a distinct cabal of sorcerers called the Barrow Magi had arisen within and eventually overthrew their shamans. The Barrow Magi were rumored to learn the dark arts from the abhorrent Maathi, ordering their followers to carve tombs and graves for the departed only to place cursed wards that would often tempt in trespassers only for them to be ensnared by the living dead. From what I gather. The Painted Hand simply faded away from history. The remaining know record tells of how the last of them, a Barrow Magi no less was sealed within in one of their ancestral tombs. Not before swearing should it be opened he would be unleashed thus bringing a reign of terror that would last till the end of time. Flaming Men Clan: An offshoot of the Scorching Eye clan. Rumors speak how a small group of the Scorching Eye Clan were seduced by a supposedly witch and were made to worship her as their priestess. The Flaming Men developed a crude ceremony, in which they mutilate themselves by burning off a body part serving as a offering to the flames as well as to show their devotion to it. The Flaming Men clan were reportedly wiped out by their parent clan over a religious conflict, resulting with the majority of the clan being massacred with survivors being tortured before being set ablaze while still alive. Children of the Sleepy Oak Clan: An quite obscure clan. Characterized for their worship of a mysterious leafless oak tree that rumor has it granted them unnatural power through offerings of blood sacrifice. Other clans deemed the Children of the Sleepy Oak clan as monsters, for they are rumored to not only engage in human sacrifice but sanguinary tendencies as well such as blood drinking. Moorling Clan: For the clansmen of the Moorlings, the windswept moorlands are not only their home but their very lifeblood. Moorling shamans are prominent for their constructing of runic standing stones where they hold ceremonies to communicate with spirits of ancestors or prepares the very wind itself. Blackclaw Clan: Boasted by it's expert smiths and metalworkers who toiled away in secret forges. The Blackclaws are masters of metalworking and crafting. So guarded our their secrets that members would rather die the reveal clan secrets to the point of even slitting their own writs. Green Braid Clan: The clan was known for their iconic and elaborate dreadlocks wore by its members and were dyed to a shade of green. Long gone as the clan was assimilated into the Painted Hand Clan after having their chieftain defeated. Rattle Cry Clan: Earned their name from their fearsome cries and thunderous drum marches. Which inspire fear or awe for all who hear. Once proud, the clan itself fell on hard times after one of their kin accidently killed a Pale Hollow clansman, resulting in them being cursed by the death-mystics. Eventually they were wiped out by slave hunts from the Frostalon, Sleepy Oak attacks for victims in their blood rituals and raids from the Bonecrafter clans. White Scar Clan: It was considered to be one of the oldest and proudest of the clans. They held great affinity for shamanistic practices, with shamans of the White Scar being regarded as the most disciplined and esteemed. Raining Wolf Clan: A rather small but fierce clan, staunch allies of the Splitting Tusk Clan. They domesticated whole packs of wolves and have carried out a age old tradition of training them for battle. ---- 'The Accursed, the Abominable and the Abhorrent' To those looking upon the mundane reality of mortals, and they found it afflicted by horrid abominations, malign beasts and terrific aberrations. For these abominations are each and forever the eternal enemies of the mortals of the multiverse, and shall not be suffered to abide among us. And these abominations are many kind, and may be known thusly: —The Infinite Collective, those unworldly mind warping horrors that are utter alien and inhuman, coming to ensnare and corrupt mortals under their mental dominance and subjugation. —The Dabblers, those mortals who through traffic with the eldritch powers do gain forbidden power and knowledge at the cost of their humanity and that of the innocent. —The Walking Corpses, these restless and risen undead whose rotting bodies linger with loathsome and unholy vigor, ushering fear and agony for those still living. —The Lost Ones, those former champions of creation fallen to their unparalleled grief and now bound to bring about the end of all things. —The Unnamed, who feed horrifically upon the innocent, regarding them as mere cattle to sate their unholy hungers. —The Deathless Machines, these soulless mechanical monstrosities who think themselves superior and would dare to turn on their creators. Know these abominations, gather to slay them where're they appear and when they can be found. ---- 'The Maze and the Hobgoblin' The tale, I am about to tell you is one well know by those denizens of the cultured realms. The location in question has many names from various cultures and societies, Yazetha. Upon it spans across it's surface and taking over half of it is a vast, almost infinitely going maze built out of black stone. The creators of the maze itself are another mystery, with legends telling of a race of gigantic men that lived in antiquity. Other rumors persist of how the layout of the maze was in fact built as a means to penetrate and gaze through the veil of inner realties. What ever the true purpose of the maze was lost to the ravages of time along with it's makers. For untold eons the maze was left to crumble away, until it became home to a new legend. For at the center of the maze, a powerful being had taken residence within it. It began when children started vanishing from nearby worlds. Then strange creatures started popping up, causing mischief and generally causing trouble for everyone. They go by various names so being faerie, feidar, goblins, ilthayra, imps, sprites, pixies, and the sildhe. Eventually the creatures' master materialized and laughed at the foolish people in their attempts locate their children and revealed that they were close in fact, closer then they had thought for the strange creatures were in truth their children having fallen under the being's control who's name was revealed to be Darius and had been transformed into his subjects. He challenged anyone to stop him, only one person rose to it. A lone girl who's younger brother was one of the first to be taken. She pleaded with Darius to undo what he had done, but Darius merely smiled. He spoke and told her, " If you wishes for me to release thy control over younglings then reach me my lair before the stroke of twilight or you too will be mine". The girl agreed much to the fear and discontent of her neighbors and family members. The next thing she knew she found herself transported directly into Darius's domain. At first she thought she was along, but soon she was not. In fact she was never truly for with each step she took, she faced one encounter after another from murderous skeletons, the cruel metallic keepers and even Darius's most deadly servant, the Gate Keeper. But with each previous trial she was triumph through sheer wit and willpower until she finally met Darius at the center. There did he appear before as the most handsome form of a razor haired blonde young man draped in black boots, long, ragged cloaks, a black sparkly jacket encrusted with various gems, baggy shirts and contoured trousers. At the mere sight of such a thing most would fall to their knees, but she didn't and instead proclaimed she had won and for him to return what he had taken. But Darius pleased with her for one last thing, to simple answer one thing for him; What is your name?. The girl replied with "No One". At that moment Darius took a step back as the ground cracked and shattered. What happened next was unexpected, for the girl discovered herself back at her home with all the children who had vanished returned and back to normal, the spell was broken. Though they still say Darius the Hobgoblin Lord still resides with the maze of Yazetha, plotting to retake the children and make them his slaves for all of eternity, thought if he is he sure is taking a long time. ---- 'The Ghosts of Malavadia' Chapter I Count Froalic, who built his keep from the mud of Chillwood Bog, gathered to himself any who would pledge themselves to him as their liege. Nearby tribes of fanatical warriors united as vassals to protect his lands and bloodline, and thus the Count lived out his days in the keep. He and his countess Lithra sired Kalen and Melina, the first children of Malavadia. The boy's mother and father believed that with the enough and proper political influence, their son could certainly usurp the magisters and their enigmatic lord, the Gentleman then usher the whole land into a prosperous age. For his part, Count refused even to acknowledge his master, thinking himself and his heirs irrefutable rulers of the land. This, of course, amused the Gentleman to no end, and so he allowed the marriage of the upstart Kalen to Light-of-Glade, daughter of an bog dweller midwife. Light-of-Glade was as excellent an countess to Kalen as any in the land could ask for, wanting nothing but to bring pride and honor to her new family and new husband. Though there were whispers among the court members of infidelity but were engrossed by growing reports of the young bride's infertility. Kalen was obsessively nepotistic, and distrustful of anyone with whom he shared no blood relation with including his bride. Though Light-of-Glade was said to finally bore a son by the Count named, Barbas. It is known that the two shared their bed with decreasing frequency as Kalen's paranoia grew, and he found himself in the embracing arms of his sister , which led to all sort of rumors and gossip of how in reality a incestuous affair had spawned the heir apparent, Barbas. There may be truth in that for there those of us who remember personally the reign of Barbas, and his contribution to the fall of Malavadia. ---- Chapter II Violent-natured and quick of temper, Barbas sought enemies where every they could be found even when non existed. His early days on the seat of Malavadia foresaw the destruction of every tribe or village within sight of the keep, until none were left. During his brief reign, much of the southeastern coastline of Malavadia was unsafe to travel, littered with the corpses of trespassers in the lands of Malavadia, staked to trees as territorial markers and warnings to passer byes. Beside his sadistic temper, Count Barbas was known also for his slow wit and his unnatural fasciation with the supernatural and the unknown. Indeed, even when a child, he would spend nights with his grandmother under the star littered night. As a youth, he was entertained by a myriad of self proclaimed men of magic, stargazers and even a trio of sister witches often becoming violent after they were dismissed by his father and grandfather. Perhaps showing the influence of his father, he became quite nepotistic, allowing only a select few courtiers mostly distant relatives in his presence. He was seen in public only when organizing his vassals for yet another raid on some poor village in the countryside. It was also at the pinnacle of his reign that did a even more sinister darkness fell over Malavadia for at the time, adhering to the desperate counsel of his advisors, Barbas had decided to take a wife and ensure the continuation of his noble bloodline. The Count chose a vibrant peasant women as his betrothed, from a commune in the neighboring wilds of Khaslya. Countess Julebell could not have been any more his opposite. Vassals, long loyal to their ancestral agreement with Count's forefathers, were displeased by this act perceiving it as a betrayal for not picking one of their children. Tensions only grew as Barbas in a feeble attempt to win his wife's love decided to gift her with her own personal wing of the keep. But by doing this he ordered the destruction and felling of a grove that was long held sacred to his vassals' ancestors. Inflamed by this heresy, the vassals were whipped into a fanatical frenzy and were prepared to lay siege to the keep. Only the careful thinking of the count's bride of saving a seedling bored from the fruit of the grove did spare both sides the bloodshed. In the weeks that followed, did something most particular occur. One night, Count Barbas's grandmother, the former countess Lithra vanished. For countless moons did the count searched in vain even forcing his own vassals, who still bored resentment towards their liege for his unwanted defilement of their sacred tree grove. Mourning the lost of his beloved grandmother, he isolated himself away and days later the health of Barbas finally failed, and his young son, Remy, ascended the throne. ---- Chapter III Young Remy had scarcely been seen in public before his hasty coronation in the bowls of Malavandia Keep. Had the boy been old enough to govern, his gentle and shy demeanor may have been enough to ease the seething tension among the vassals, but his mother, Countess Julebell was forced to assume many of the duties her husband had so long ignored and neglected, along with dealing with the growing number of missing maids and other staff members that have occurred after the initially disappearance of Countess Lithra. By all accounts, Julebell was a fine countess; beloved by her people, but the leaders of the various vassals could not contain indefinitely their personal sentiments of outrage at her Khaslya heritage. Despite her exceedingly tactful attempts at diplomacy, the animosity against her was deep-seated, and grew over the years. It is remarkable that they remained true to the oaths for so long. When Remy finally came of age to rule, the boy tried in earnest to rule, but his fear of the world was so great that even the mere glimpse of a passing insect made his blood go ice cold, and the increasing number of people disappearing without a trace within the keep's walls only fueled his fears and that of other keep's denizens. He was all but unable to address the people publicly, and when he attempted to placate his squabbling vassals. He could scarcely contain his fright. As the years passed and tensions worsened, very disturbing activity began to occur. In one in incident, a young maid had reported of how she had sighted a woman like figure walking the hallways that appeared to be; Countess Lithra, only for it to vanish as soon as it appeared. Not long after that more sightings of the ghostly images and figures of all those who had mysteriously gone missing within the keep began taken place. Finally the tolerance of the vassals snapped, and their warriors encircled the keep. But when they did they found no resistance, no awaiting defenders or opponents. What they did find was two things; a silent keep utterly devoid of life with it's inhabitants missing. The other thing was a simple journal written in haste found in the Countess Julebell's wing. Apparently written by the countess herself. The note detailed in the many weeks before the vassals had prepared to attack that the abnormal on goings that increased drastically with a handful of maids had been attacked by the various spectral apparitions of those gone missing. Eventually it describes how as such many of the denizens fled and with those that stayed only to one by one be murdered by the spectros or vanishing without a trace; the last thing the countess wrote before the writing abruptly stops... was one word. Nulling... Believing that they had been avenged with a curse had been placed on the whole keep supposedly by the Gentleman himself when the former count, Barbas destroyed the sacred grove. The vassals simply left now freed from the bonds of servitude from their former oath departed back to their homes. Back with the tales of the fall of the once pound keep of Malavadia and how it's noble bloodline had been befallen by the very vengeance of the land's true master, the Gentleman. To this day, the keep lies abandoned for no one dares set a foot into it, in fear that they may to become victim to the terrible evil that dwells within. ---- 'Worship of Elder Ones: Mysteries and Devotion of the Faithful' The Elder Ones, the Lotrun and the Infinite Collective. These are some of the names given to these primordial and eldritch entities who often enough inspire "lesser beings" into giving themselves over to worship and venerate them as gods. Nonetheless, religious and public opinion is so strongly against worship concerning of those aberrations that those who practice such rituals do so in secret, upon discovery many facing death by mob. Countless in numbers, which themselves are as diverse in practice and membership from all manner of imagination. From the bloody sacrificial cults, to the philosophical secret societies or organized religious systems. There are various variants of cults dedicated to the Elder Ones, each one formed around a specific progenitor of their kind, favorite child and or one of their descendent of significant holding. Through several means of investigation, I have accounted a number of these clandestine groups and put them into classifications. Types of Cults Secret Societies Secret Societies are centered around, as their name implies, on secrets or mysteries. Such secrets may concern forbidden lore, ancient prophecies, or other esoteric and eldritch knowledge and any other important information. Controlled by a select group, forming an inner circle which act the foundation of their power and authority among their followers. The cult's members submit themselves to the leadership and often must be proved worthy enough if they are to be granted access to the hidden secrets, and even wield the cult's power. In most conclusions and findings, the most dangerous of these societies are those affiliated with a entities named the Threshold's Keeper and the Fourteenth Tailed Scholar, who many believe to be patriarchs of the Elder Ones. Numerous reports document how members of such mystical cults, religious sects, and those focused on their power are granted the dark gifts of prophecy or that of having their intelligent drastically enhanced. But with power often comes a terrible price, with many loosing their sanity and being corrupted by such forbidden knowledge over time. Pleasure Cults It is a universal truth that those tired of the suffering they experience daily in the merciless, unrelenting reality and want some sort of reward for enduring the ceaseless pain of existence. Some have a life of privilege already, but refuse to be satisfied with what they posse. There are even those who simply cannot seem to resist certain actions or pleasures. Inquiry, years of research have determinate that the vast majority of organizations are those that adhere to two main ideologies. Psanguian Creed The more begin or light hearted side of pleasure cults is commonly referred as the Psanguian Creed that employ trance-inducing methods such as dance or even music to remove inhibitions and social constraints, liberating the individual to return to a natural state of being. It also provided some liberation for those marginalized by society. The role of alcohol played a important part in their rituals, the cultivation and later fermentation of grapes and other ingredients were also essential to the cult's lore, regarding such drinks' intoxicating and disinhibiting effects were held sacred as due to a myth about how their master was said to install a sliver of his very essence into each brew. Cults also conducted spirit possession who's role was to embracing the more beastly or primitive nature of one's self to seek freedom from civilization's rules and constraints. Adherents celebrated that which was outside of civilized society and a return to primordial nature, not only that but spiritual possession was channeled into dramatic masked rituals, with most performers bearing the faces of animals mainly horned ones such as goats or rams. Even though most of their rituals and beliefs are mostly non-aggressive and bear little hostility, there is a dark side as there are well documented reports and accounts of those who go against or even harm cult members are transformed into hellish and monstrous satyr like fiends, their minds bent to the will of the cult and to serve as their guardians for all of eternity. Lythpaistism Doctrine To those pleasure seekers who indulge in hedonistic revelry, debauchery, and passionate indulgences of darker natures the Lythpaistism Doctrine is the path to go. Though it is a descent into damnation, from listening to screams of captives in torture chambers, filling their bodies with foods until becoming bloated, or obsessively staring at paintings for hours on end. Dedicated to the pursuit of earthly pleasure and the abandonment of all decent behavior, their desires are full of seductive lust and sadistic depravity. Excess, sensation, and personal perfection are the three common trends. One cult may be trying to find the perfect mixture of paint, another seeking the most efficient way to get alcohol into the bloodstream, and another pushing the limits of how much the brain can take in in sensation before failing. Such cults and groups are often enough are headed by the children of the Mistress of Pleasure, who enthrall and tempt victims into joining the ranks of their followers, with the sole mission to corrupt the innocent. Immortality and Resurrection Cults Sinister in nature, immortality cults ultimately seek to understand the secrets of life and overcome death itself. Some resurrection cults pursue the lofty goals of transcending death and instead to reverse the effects of death. Often they espouse the goal of gaining physical immortality for their own and will go to unspeakable extent to obtain their dark ends. Some resurrection cultists even practice all manner of sinister revivification rituals to indoctrinate their members. The extreme examples of their activates include trailing leads on potential means of enteral life, some even contact and make pacts with otherworldly powers while others dabble in forbidden arts and dangerous sciences to transfigure their bodies into immortal ones. To those who come by the Elder Ones, are the most insidious of all. For these groups of men and women have been corrupted, those who devote themselves to the Twin Apostle soon find themselves existing only to serve his progeny, some will be sacrificed; those are the lucky ones. The unlucky ones are taken away and face horrific indoctrination rites where their minds are broken down and then the bodies are morphed into horrid minions who preach the true faith. The immortal and resurrection cults of the now-devastated Draendio headed by their enigmatic god-king and his host of angels preach of a twisted resurrection granting the devotees, enteral life. Ether way, immortality and eternal life always has a price, often enough at the expense of everyone around. Fertility Cults All beings hold the desire to pass on their genes to the next generation, to provide a lasting legacy to future descendants. Though there are some examples on less advanced and primitive societies or cultures that develop a religious system of worship involving rites and ceremonies believed to ensure productiveness and the contained fertility of crops, livestock and in some cases... even people. Now from various sources, it has been determined that only certain breeds of Elder Ones take a keen interest in groups of this manner, with most of them belong to the brood of the Grey Matron of Twilight Woods. A ancient fecund creature that is regarded as a fertility goddess who bestows bountiful harvests and many children to its worshippers in exchange for blood sacrifices. Another particular variant of this cult is one more akin to nature worship, those dedicated to the natural phenomena contributing to the continuation of the life process. Groups and organizations focusing on worshipping this often become targets for those Elder Ones who's appearance is much like that of a sentient and or mobile flora based form. Charismatic Cults Simplest in structure, as such organizations is based around the authority of a single figure, the cult's leader. Absolute authority is usually the requiring norm in these cults and is maintained by the leader’s force of character, natural charisma, oratory skills, or simple personal power. Cults led by a single powerful figure such as a powerful servant of the Elder Ones are often of this type. This individual will exploit the weakness of others for his own personal power or gratification, or the fulfilment of his own agenda. Recent findings have concluded that a great number of Elder Ones often form and subvert groups to suit their biddings. The most recurring of these leaders are those referred as the Veiled, obscure entities that exist as living masks composed of bone that posse the bodies of the wearers, others include the Unseen Lords, cunning psychic vampire like beings who feed upon the weak minded and mentally dominate their victims are just the prime examples. Destructive Cults Destructive cults refers to groups whose members have, through deliberate action, physically injured or killed other members of their own group or other people. Most destructive cults, despite their differences, can be divided into four categories: Apocalyptic Cults Among the rim of society are people who believe that all existence is doomed, and that they live in the last days of living before all is swallowed by oblivion. These people and their particular brand of insanity inspires them to fight against all government order to bring about the collapse of civilisation which they believe is inevitable. Plague and Disease Cults Disease and death are common throughout the galaxy. With the Elder One patriarch, Igee have the means of earning the name of Plague Lord. Most mortals do not have to go far as his tainted touch spreads his infectious blessings with those who are infected becoming bond together. The power of such a group is far greater than that of any one of its members. Alone, these individuals can do very little, but if all are members of the same plague cult, it can be another matter entirely. But each one no matter what difference hold one singular goal, the propagation of a endless plague and pestilence across all of reality. Death Cults Death and blood underpin of mortal existence. It is a common trend that only through continued blood-sacrifice in the face of a hostile universe prevail, a sacrifice must be made. So it is in these beliefs that death cults flourish everywhere, from suppositious worlds of primitive warriors to the underbelly of cultured societies. More readily recognized aspects of faith, making them some of the most dangerous heretical cults that any can encounter. Some are no doubt deluded, corrupted by the depraved beliefs or swayed by far older and more terrible influences. To these individuals, every death, every cut, every welling of blood is an act of worship and gratification to such supreme beings. Necrophage Cults Necrophage cults are the most heretical and corrupt, with sects often springing up in places ravaged by incessant warfare or widespread famine, plague and or any other terrible disasters. In desperation they commit human sacrifice, acts of cannibalism, and necrotic rituals that soon become widespread. With so much bloodshed, confusion and despair such places often attract and are quickly infested by the lowest of the Elder Ones, horrific scavengers, carrion-eaters and vile predators of mortals. ---- 'Varieties of Faith in the Cosmos' Religion and faith are a major part of life and serves as a binding and diving force throughout the reality. Throughout the eons ,any deities, gods and goddesses; which are worshiped by its inhabitants have come and gone. List of Gods A''' '''B C''' '''D *'Duohelecta, the': Lost gods of the Doultækk who built Hurvyn. E''' '''F G''' *'''Greatos: God of the Forests, guardian of the old growths. *'Grey Matron of Twilight Woods': A ancient fertility goddess, who's worshippers are known mainly for their dark rituals, many of which include blood sacrifice. A façade of the Ps One, Piaogga. *'God-Emperor of Gura'din': A ancient immortal being who sees the future but forgets the past and is sovereign ruler of the Grand Empire of Gura'din. Antithesis of Stradivarius. H''' '''I J''' '''K L''' '''M N''' '''O P''' *'''Presiar: God of the Mute Valley, the masked silent guider of the meditated and healers. Q''' '''R S''' *'''Stradivarius: The last Whistler of the Woods, and patron of music. He is blind to the future but sees all of the past. Antithesis of the God-Emperor of Gura'din. T''' '''U V''' *'''Verdiboar: Goddess of the Harvest, staunch enemy to the Grey Matron of Twilight Woods and her followers. W''' '''X Y''' *'''Yyenda: Goddess of the Hunt and the elegant mistress of archery. Z Category:Book